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In praise of Terry

I am a huge advocate of doing fun exercise instead of joyless grueling Working Out, and I am therefore extremely ambivalent about the gym. Given my druthers, I’d get all my exercise from dance, yoga, and swimming, instead of just running nowhere like a rat in a wheel (albeit a rat with an iPod). However, it has turned out that timing matters more to me than content — if I don’t get up and move by mid-afternoon, I’ll be way too dragged-out to do anything in the evening. So I go to the tiny gym in the building where I work, just to knock off 20 minutes on the elliptical plus whatever else I feel like doing that day.

Terry oversees the gym, makes sure it has magazines and juice and everything’s in working order. He’s also the unofficial personal trainer — if you ask him, he’ll show you the best way to use the weight machines, give you tips, spot you, suggest machines, whatever. He introduced me to the Versaclimber, which is fiendish and I love it, and gave me tips on lifting free weights. This is an amazing resource. But it could have really scared me off. After all, the gym is usually empty, and for Terry to come over (as he did) and say “let me show you a better way to do a bicep curl” meant that he was watching me exercise.

As it turns out, though, I was the one who brought Terry up short. Our first encounter really threw him for a loop — he kept asking if I had a “goal,” and I kept saying that I just can’t sit on my ass for eight hours straight. He couldn’t understand why I kept coming if I didn’t have a goal — “But you’re here every day! Most people start strong and then I don’t see them after a couple of weeks.” I explained, “That’s because they have a goal, and they get frustrated. I’m not trying to do anything except feel good. I meet my ‘goal’ every day.”

Terry could have refused to accept this. He wouldn’t be alone; most people can’t accept that a woman wouldn’t be deliberately trying to lose weight, especially a woman who goes to the gym a lot. He could have ignored me and started suggesting fat-burning exercises. He could have — a lot of people would have — told me that I really should have a goal, that it would keep me motivated and make me thin and happy.

Instead, Terry decided to start treating me like an athlete. I’m not, but I once was, and I get a huge kick out of it when he asks me very seriously whether there are other machines or other amenities that I think “we” should have at the gym. A few weeks ago he asked me whether I was doing the 5K that weekend. Last week I avoided the gym because of my cold, and when I came back in this week he was incredulous — “You skipped a week? You. Skipped a WEEK? A whole week? YOU skipped a week?” Not another word about goals. Does he still think I’m trying to lose weight? Maybe. Maybe he thinks I should. But at least in our interactions, he has totally accepted me as a person who just likes exercise.

We’ve all got frustrating people in our lives — mothers, coworkers, whatever — who can’t find it in themselves to accept us for who we are. Our bodies drive these people batty, and the only thing that upsets them more is when we stop being equally agitated and miserable about them — when we decide to give up weight loss and self-punishment for good. But I’ll bet you also have a Terry, someone who maybe didn’t understand, who didn’t have to be supportive, but who decided to respect you anyway.

Let’s hear it for them.

Edited to add: No really, let’s hear it for them, and more to the point, let’s hear about them! Who’s your Terry? Who provides support from an unexpected quarter?

I agree with colio2007. If only there were more people like him in gyms, I might be able to muster enough energy to go work out on a hamster wheel (or even go running during the day on the bike path.)

I’ve had similar positive experiences with bike shop owners. When I bought my first bike, I know they suspected I was going to ride it a few times and then stash it in the basement. So they sold me the cheapest one they had. I know they were more than a bit surprised at my riding habits (given that I wore down the components within a few months) and pretty soon, I was adopted into the cult. And I’ve found bike shop people to be the most accepting of fat people who are or want to be athletes or even just work out and/or have fun.

Yeah, the one guy in our bike shop is pretty good too… although he’s much more compact than my boyfriend, he talked matter-of-factly with him about the realities of bike maintenance for “us big guys.” No judgment. I think with (some) bike shop people, you join the club based on what you do, not how you look.

FJ, I just realized you were nudging us to tell the stories of our own Terries, and I blew it on that.

I nominate my yoga teacher, who talked about things I could do to lose weight at first, but immediately stopped when I told her I just wanted to do some yoga — and has been really supportive of me ever since.

And all the thin friends I wrote about the other day who didn’t go “WTF??” when I started writing about fat.

Oh yeah, mad props to your thin friends! I have yet to get very vocally fat around most of my friends, because I don’t want to make them uncomfortable… but it’s not so much a fat thing as a radical thing. I don’t get all that vocally feminist around most of them for the same reason.

You know what? For me this is not just about weight loss/fat women issues. For me it’s just about being listened to, especially by a man. Because I believe it’s really all we want; good and proper attention. Someone really listening to us. And Terry listened, and heard, and responded appropriately, to what you said and who you are.
(My guess is that Al does the same, or you’d have ditched him by now.)

Thanks for the nudge, FJ–I’m brain-sluggy today. Ironically, one of my Terries is my sister who had WLS in 2001. When she first had it done, she was all over my ass to have it done as well. As time has gone on and she’s realized WLS wasn’t the magic bullet that was going to make her life perfect and awesome, she’s listened more and more to my beliefs regarding fat acceptance and now understands where I’m coming from about it and why it’s important not just to me, but to a whole bunch of folks. And, I have to say, a guy who’s new to my life has been almost astonishingly accepting and interested in fat acceptance. He’s very close to Terryosity. (And damn cute, too.)

I’m lucky to have a several Terrys at my gym. The people who work there at the desk, the fitness specialist, and the manager are always friendly and helpful. I feel like they’re cheering me on, and they don’t even ask me why I’m there every day, or why I’ve been away when I take some time off. I love my gym.

I nominate the Queen of Cunt Mountain, Mellisa McEwan. Besides introducing the Shaker world to Kate Harding – she always wrote in supportive ways to my comments. She even emailed once or twice – simply to encourage. I am amazed and astounded with what she, then Kate, did to persuade me to acknowledge my own life and my own value to myself.

The only “Terry” I can think of in my life is one of my ex-roomies. She was (and still is, living in L.A. now) this tiny (5’1″, 105 soaking wet) little punk rock waitress who never once made a fat joke or weight loss suggestion. She was also one of the few people (to this day) I’ve ever been able to talk frankly with about being fat. She used to say that living with me shattered her ideas about fat people, especially since I was in way better health than she was.

There’s never been a word about weight loss out of the mouth of my belly dance instructor. She once commented on how it’s okay for me to take a slightly wider stance because of my “nice wide hips”. The women in that class range from teeny tiny to quite large and I’ve never noticed body judgement from the instructor or any of the women in the class, which is really great.

Also, I’ve been really (pleasantly) surprised at how supportive my fiance is about fat acceptance. He’s not only completely supportive of my choice not to try to lose weight, he really listens when I talk about fat acceptance and how body image in our society is fucked up and how dieting is harmful. He’s watched his mom struggle with her weight her whole life, so he’s inclined to be sympathetic I think. He also backs me up when I try to talk about fat acceptance to other people, and I’ve noticed him starting to speak up when his mom and sister talk about weight loss. I

Fillyjonk, I would love to have a Terry in my life! I mean, I have a few of them, but not, specifically, a gym-Terry. I’ve been sedentary of late and would love to get back to working out.

So . . . would it be possible for you to mention what area of the country you’re in, and then answer the emails of those of us who contact you and are in that area and want to go to Terry’s gym? Like, if you said “mid-sized city on the West Coast,” all the West Coasters could email you and you could either say, sorry, I’m not in that city, or, yes, I’m in that area, here is the name of the gym I go to.

That would just be great. Actually, if anyone on this thread who knows of a fat-friendly gym could mention it here, that would be great!

P.S. At this particular moment of my life, I”m not fat, but that could change (as it has throughout my life — I’ve been fat, thin, and in-between). And even though I’m not a “person of size” right now, I love the fat acceptance movement, and I’m not interested in going to a gym that is weight-obsessed or fat-phobic.

Kathy, I wish I could, but my gym is actually a private one affiliated with an organization that’s housed at my building. I’m not even a member of the organization — I use my boss’ membership number. But maybe virg wants to share her gym info?

Becky, belly dance is the awesomest for size-accepting instructors! I haven’t heard word one from anyone at my current studio. That said, part of the reason I left my last studio was that my teacher, while always telling everyone to ease up on their body image and that jiggling is good, still wanted to play the “you’re not fat” game with me. (I actually asked her if I could take a wider stance because I was fat, and she got into the you’re-not-fat thing instead of answering me!) So even though belly dance as a whole is very body-accepting, your teacher still deserves special props.

Belly dance is great for fatties, you guys. The beginner class that’s right before my class is full of them! Only me and one other fat girl in my current class, but I think that’s actually a fluke.

I have a friend who has co-written a very successful book about running, and she totally gets it that I run because it makes me feel good and keeps me sane. She, incidentally, has run many marathons and has not once – in her words – lost so much as an ounce in weight (not that that was ever her aim), which is interesting in the context of the article you posted the other day (although I, too, thought the guy totally blew his credibility when he started blathering on about sugar at the end).

Anyway, this woman claims – and I believe her – that she can convert anyone to the joys of running within 10 minutes, she is that evangelical. And it has nothing to do with weight and everything to do with getting more out of your life. Amen to that.

Well, she and Terry might have to fight — I confessed to him that I really can’t run (I get shin splints, I’m misaligned due to scoliosis, I have shitty balance, etc etc) but that I feel like somehow anything that isn’t running doesn’t “count,” and he was like “eh, it’s so easy to injure yourself running, I never tell people to run.”

Ooh, my old Pilates instructor was a Terry, though her name is Kim. Nice, funny as hell, and free with the compliments – related to the class and random ones too (she once said I had “adorable” feet).

She would modify moves for anyone who asked, and if you asked her privately, she’d show you privately and/or modify in the next class without calling attention to who’d asked. (I have balance problems and often need modifications, but other instructors sometimes pointed out that it was me, which made me feel like I had a big “I’M THE ONE WHO CAN’T DO THIS” sign on my head.) I wish I hadn’t moved away from the gym where she taught!

Another bellydancer chiming in; it’s superb for all body types and abilities. Also you get to hear things like “Really let your ass go!” and “Hmm, your hips could be bigger.” All my teachers have been super supportive and very personal with their students: encouraging to emphasize your extension if you’ve got a flexible back, or your undulation if you’ve got a pugnacious tummy, so on and so forth. There’s a real sense that everyone creates her own dance with her own body, and it’s amazing to watch (and do!)

I used to be really shy about showing my belly, when I first started, and I couldn’t believe that some of the other fat women would do so, not only with no shame, but to complete adoration and adulation from the rest of the students in the class. When I finally did show the belly I got the same love, my dance got so much better, and now you can’t keep a shirt on me.

My Terry is my doctor. She listens to everything that I tell her, never talks in that god-awful “I went to medical school so I know better than you voice”, and she once asked me whether I was a nurse because she can see that I am so in tune with my body that I can describe where it hurts and how much without any guesswork. One guy I dated who went to see her liked her so much he came out of the clinic wanting to be a doctor! I would have ascribed that kind of attitude and quality of attention to women only, if it weren’t for your Terry, Kate.

A pity there weren’t more Terrys at the gyms of the world. All of the trainers at mine harp on about goals and ‘how was your food this week?’ and it bugs the crap out of me. I’m there to get, and continue to be, as healthy as I can irrespective of a damn calendar, and when I tell them I eat when I’m hungry and I eat what my body tells me to eat they look at me like I’m a complete dimwit. They’d have me do what a book says is correct instead of what my body tells it needs. WTF?

p.s. Kate, if Terry never told you that doing weights increases your muscle mass, and therefore your fat burning potential, more than just cardio does then he deserves double love!

And nope, he doesn’t pimp weights for their “fat burning potential.” You know what he does? I didn’t even think about what a huge deal this is until just now. Here’s what he does: every so often, he ASKS ME whether there’s anything I want pointers on.

I credit belly dancing with getting me in tune with my body. It’s also a totally vicious work-out that I LOVE to pieces. Belly dancing taught me a few things:

1) Sometimes being big and curvy are an advantage.
2) I have to love an exercise to stick with it.
3) Muscle memory sometimes takes a really long time to kick in but it’s totally worth the wait. For example, it took me almost a year to figure out how to do a tummy undulation and now I love to show off my mad skills!

My current instructor, Saqra, is hilarious and her enthusiasm for the dance and women loving their bodies is an inspiration. The first time she encouraged me to perform, I almost cried because I never thought I looked good enough to do something like that. Now I know that ANY woman can be beautiful doing this dance.

Rock on for Terrys! I have had several supporters along the Terry spectrum during my early dance years, and without them I for sure wouldn’t have kept going.

My first Terry was the teacher of the first dance class I ever tried, a cardio hip hop class at the women’s gym. Now, I had tried other classes there–jazzercize-type, step, kick-boxing–and just wasn’t feeling it. The treadmills made me crazy, and the weight machines weren’t enough. So I walk into this hip hop class, get into the back row with my enormously oversized t-shirt over the baggy sweat pants, try to move along with the unfamiliar music. And after about 20 minutes I walk out. I can’t handle it. Outside the room I watched through eyes that were starting to blur up with tears that I didn’t want to shed right there in the gym. The other students were all various degrees of much-smaller-than-me, they were all looking fly and fabulous dancing along to Janet Jackson, doing these amazing moves. I felt like the biggest, stupidest, white-est ass klutz in the world. I felt horrible.

And the teacher came out.

She said, wait for me, okay? I want to check in with you. Just wait until I’m done and let’s talk.

After the class, she sat down with me at a table and asked me what was going on. She said all the things that I now say to people who might get frustrated with being a beginner dancer: it takes time to get used to it. Some of the students have been with me for a while, and they know my moves or they know the routine already. Just come once a week for a month, she said. At the end of it, at least you can say you gave it a fair try. But I think you’ll like it by then.

So I came back, and the rest, as they say, is history. At the end of two months I found myself gravitating to the front row. At the end of three months I was wearing just a sports bra for a top in class (at 5’10 and 290 pounds, that felt really daring to me). Six months in and I asked her to help me choreograph a piece to present at the talent show in a Fat Feminist Caucus conference. And then the avalanche of fun started, I founded Big Moves, and I’ve never looked back. (except, you know, to reminisce like this.)

Point is, Dia went beyond Terry-ness. She could have let me just walk out of the class. She had 15 other students in there. She didn’t need to follow me. But she cared, she saw a spark of rhythm in me or something, she wanted to help me try to find the joy in that particular kind of movement that _she_ had. And during the two years that I knew her and danced with her, she only rarely mentioned my weight, and never mentioned it after I said I wasn’t interested in talking or doing anything about it.

She could have totally ignored me. But she looked right at me and invited me to dance. Thank god.

Starting up a chapter of Big Moves takes a lot of work on various people’s parts, but we are getting there. We start by doing tours, really, to gauge the level of interest through attendance at performances and workshops, and right now we’re limited to doing tours to places where we can drive. On the East Coast that’s about 6 or 7 hours from Boston, which means north to Montreal, south to Philadelphia (where, cross your fingers, we might have a show at the end of April), and west to… well, I don’t know, west to wherever people say, “ooh, ooh, pick me, pick me!”

Wow, Marina… Dia deserves a medal. Although knowing that you had a hand in the genesis of a group as amazing as Big Moves is a pretty fantastic reward. I hope you’ve been keeping her well appraised of the group’s progress. I’m sure she’s incredibly proud.

I chickened out on the one Big Moves workshop in my town. It wouldn’t happen again, so I’m hoping there’s another one eventually. Or maybe I’ll go next time I’m in New York!

I’m breaking my anonymity because I have to nominate the fertility clinic I attended, who not only helped get me pregnant, but who were completely supportive, gentle, and full of compassion. The one time I did ask to get my weight taken (just for my own edification) – during a wanding – my doctor and both nurses looked at me all wide-eyed, like I was insane, before sternly telling me that not only did they no’t weight their patients, but that it was unimportant.

First, I am joining in the chorus for belly dancing. It’s incredible to move in a way that is joyous and sensual and challenging without feeling self-conscious, and belly dance is actually one of the few physical activities it seems my body DOES want to do and do well. I have never been so good at something as when I started belly dancing. Also, it’s a little, um…enlightening to watch much much thinner women than me have difficulties in belly dancing. This is not a bag on thin ladies! It’s just me being able to notice that thin isn’t everything–functionality is where it’s at!

I have, oddly enough, a family member who is a sort of a Terry. I didn’t know my aunt very well until I moved here last year, and we’ve had some discussions about health and weight and our family all at once, and she has never been judgmental during those talks. In fact, when I realized that there was a huge complex of fat acceptance people out in the world I changed my tune (who didn’t?!) and when I talked to her about it a little she said, “Yeah, well, our side of the family is famine-resistant. We all need to stop starving ourselves.” It was priceless. :)

Marina, your story made me cry. It reminded me of all the times I wanted so badly to dance but I always felt like I needed permission so I never did. Throughout my childhood, I would carefully read every single dance studio ad in the phonebook, fantasizing about how wonderful it would be to explore such a variety of dance…but I never felt like I had the right body for any of them, so I didn’t. Then, when I was around 21 or so, I discovered belly dance. But even knowing that I can be successful in a dance form doesn’t make it easier for me to branch out into new forms. Every time, it’s the same ofd fear. And if an instructor took the time to talk with me about it, that would mean the sun and moon to me.

Phledge,
While I do find the phrase famine-resistant vaguely amusing, I’m sure you and your aunt know there is a vast difference between having the choice to eat as little or as much as you want,and having no choice but to starve? Just saying…it’s not exactly the best metaphor to be using, is all.

Like Kate, I’m going to nominate my yoga teacher, Steven. He has a classroom full of people and never calls anyone out for hesitating to try something, and he’s helped me realize that my body can do the most awesome things, when for years I believed I was too big and heavy. I can do the splits, for crying out loud! Discovering that my body can break through my mind’s boundaries can has been the most joyful experience I’ve had in a long time.

I nominate one of my friends in my graduate department (I’ll call her B….I’m not sure how she’d feel about me blasting her name allover the internet). I’m getting married in a year, and the dress just came in. She and I were talking with a group of other graduate women, and I was sharing the details about my dress. One woman, who is not really from our department, but is taking classes (and therefore is not all that familiar with my background, which includes a bout with anorexia and a struggle to re-learn how to eat), asked “So how much weight do you have to lose to fit into it?” Clearly, girlfriend is suffering from the syndrome that most women suffer from when it comes to weddings. Well, I am not, so I responded “I don’t, I actually ordered it in my size.”

Next, she blurted out “Oh wow, I could never be a chubby bride.” Normally I would have a snappy comeback, but this time I was floored and could not say a word.

B, without missing a beat, looked Non-department girl in the eyes and said “Oh, F@$& Off. Nem’s gorgeous.” And she means that statement, too. B and I can have honest conversations about weight without tip-toeing around the word “fat”. Because I accept my fat, she learned to as well. I am forever grateful to her for saying what I couldn’t on that day…

And I love that there are so many bellydancers around these parts! (I just got back from my first class in two months and OW OW OW are my obliques and glutes sore…but damn it feels good to get back in the game).

It’s interesting, when we think that it’s the exercise and activity that we LOVE that we’ll stay with, that at the same time we often don’t know what we love. Sometimes it feels really difficult to even know where to start to find something that feels good and gives a good workout and is awesome–especially if you’ve spent any time being ashamed of your body. Yay again for all the Terrys of the world who are committed to helping us with that.

DowntownVenus, I understood Phledge to mean that her body used calories efficiently and would thus be good at retaining fat during periods of deprivation. This is the case with many people, and it is in fact an evolutionary response to the possibility of starvation.

It’s starting to sound like I should do a post on belly dance! But since I’ve been at it for under a year, I’m not sure what I have to say that you old hands (old hips?) wouldn’t already have thought about a million times. Perhaps I should ask for pointers.

I nominate my Fella’. When we moved in together a few months ago, the place we bought took me far enough away from my place of employment that I could no longer walk to work. I realized last month that without my daily walk to work I was typically doing no activity during the course of my day (drive to work, desk job, drive home, rinse repeat) so I decided to start getting up early to go for first a walk, and now a jog. And he has never once complained about the alarm going off almost an hour earlier than it used to, nor has he ever asked why I decided to get more active.

He also never questions my motivation when I decide to get a salad on some days, nor tease me if I decide I was the triple layer chocolate mousse cake for desert.

weight isn’t an issue for me (i am short and thin) but i am not the fastest runner in the world. i run with boys and i have a lot of trouble keeping up with them, and group runs sometimes turn miserable because they push me too hard. the frustrating part is that i can’t make up for it by practicing hard, because my body wears and tears faster than theirs.

however, my (male) best friend has never said a word about the fact that i’m slow and shrugs off his own speed. he sticks by me in practices (and even sometimes races!) just so that running is fun for me too.

I would nominate my doctor for a Terry title, she is the most fabulous doctor I’ve ever come accross. The first time I saw her I was dreading the “You’re fat, and you’re ill because you’re fat” lecture that I’ve heard so often (and I’m sure most fat people have heard). But no, when she took my height and weight she said “Well, according to this chart you are morbidly obese, and should probably be dead already. But you’re not, so I’m sticking a note in your file to say that BMI dosent apply. Its always been hit and miss anyway”. When she asked me the question about how much exercise I do, and I had told her I play badminton she replied “Oh! I thought I recognised you, I go to the judo class down the hall when you’re playing. I think we can safely say you’re very fit, I’ve seen you play and I know I couldnt do that for an hour.”
She also said, on a different occasion, “I’m one of the few medical professionals in this area that realises its perfectly possible to be fat and fit. And fat and healthy. ”
So there we have it, a doctor saying its possible to be fat AND fit AND healthy all at the same time. Brilliant!

(This is also a woman who can take blood without me feeling a thing. She is an angel walking amongst us)

I know that I’m coming to this posting a little late, but my heart was warmed by the idea of the Terry in all of our lives.

I have two Terrys. The first is my best friend, Ben. He is one of those naturally skinny people (like a beanpole) who can eat 18 meals a day and not gain an ounce. Throughout our friendship, he has made it clear that weight is the last thing he cares about. He is an amazing dancer and coreographer, and he asked me to dance (I’m also a dancer/actor) in a piece he did – in the front. I was shocked, but his attitude was “of COURSE I want you in it”.

My other Terry is my personal trainer, Karla. She’s from El Salvador, has two young children, and is a CRAZY athlete. Her body fat percentage is probably about 2%. She could kill people with her abs. And yet, she has NEVER mentioned losing weight to me. Her goal is always to make me stronger – and to be my biggest health cheerleader. HEALTH instead of WEIGHT. Who knew?

“I’m not trying to do anything except feel good.
I meet my ‘goal’ every day.”

When I read this, I had an epiphany: All those times I’ve been told that only people who set and achieve GOALS can be truly happy. Now, I don’t have any goals other than doing whatever I feel like at the time. And I’m happy doing it. So all this time I thought I was missing out, or not normal for being happy without this happiness formula.

And then that’s when I realised it’s the same thing. I feel abnormal because I don’t count calories, or avoid ‘bad’ food, or feel guilty for eating a burger, or stress about my weight, or hate my body, or feel like my worth as a person is somehow connected to the way I look. I’ve never done any of that. And I thought that was what people did, that obsessive dieting and food-watching was what was NORMAL (from what I saw on TV, of course). And that I was not normal for feeling good about myself. It’s only recently that I’ve found out that a negative body image is not the ideal way to live, and that I am not abnormal.